Sticky and Messy, but Warm and Sweet
by MinervaEvenstar
Summary: Syrup, he decides, is a lot like love. Sirius figures out that he's in love with Remus and oh-so-eloquently tells the werewolf. Marauders' era oneshot. Sirius' perspective.


**Disclaimer: **Didn't invent the pups. Didn't invent love. Didn't invent syrup. But I _did_ invent the metaphor!

**Summary:** Syrup, he decides, is a lot like love. Sirius figures out that he's in love with Remus and oh-so-eloquently tells the werewolf. Marauders' era oneshot. Sirius' perspective.

Sticky and Messy, but Warm and Sweet

Love is a simple thing to understand, and an even simpler thing to do. Lots of the girls that fancy me figure that since I didn't get any love from my family it's a challenge for me when it comes to loving people.

But that isn't true about me. Those girls just try to convince themselves that so that the reason I don't love _them_ will be because _I_ have a problem. Really, the stupid birds should take a look at themselves and realise there's something wrong with them, not me. I don't blame them, of course. After all, I am rather amazing. They can't help wanting me.

I suppose it makes sense how loving people could be a challenge if they did bad things or hurt you a lot, but the people I love…It isn't at all difficult to love them. They're all such good people. Uncle Alphard is so eccentric that I seriously believe he's mental. Andromeda has a bad temper and a baby with purple hair. Mr. and Mrs. Potter give hugs at the most awkward moments. Peter _always_ gets crumbs on his face when he eats. James uses my shampoo without asking.

I love them all. Their smiles make me smile. To me, love means that I'd give my life to protect their health and happiness, and I know that they'd do the same for me.

Notice that I didn't mention Remus? Well, that's because James insists that I don't _love _him, but that I'm _in love _with him. I still haven't figured out the difference. I know Moony would die for me as I would for him, so the "love" is covered. Is being "in love" when someone would sacrifice himself for another's joy, _and _wants to shag said other person senseless? If so, I'm definitely in love. Although, somehow, I suspect James believes being in love is more than that.

I'm always in trouble, I've been in a rage a few times, and I like to pretend I'm in-cognito. But in love? Love is something I haven't ever been in before, and I'm not sure I like it because thinking about one person so much can't be natural, can it? I mean, it's not as if I think about him _all day_. Honestly, people that spend every minute focused on one person or thing are very creepy and need to be taken to a room with padded walls.

See, what happens is this: I'll be minding my own business playing Quidditch or pranking a professor with James, and out of nowhere my thoughts will turn to Remus. It's disturbing that I'll suddenly wonder what he's doing, or what he'd say if he were with me when I was doing…whatever I was doing. I see random objects all over the damn place that remind me of him. There's this one type of light-coloured pancake syrup and whenever I notice it, I muse, "Hey, that's the same shade as Remus' eyes. They're such pretty eyes, too…" It's very unpredictable and annoying.

Of course, I personally have been called unpredictable and annoying, but it's different because I _choose_ to be that way. I certainly don't decide to have these thoughts that can make me unimaginably hard (Yes,_ that_ kind of hard.) or irrationally gooey at the most inconvenient times.

You know, the various emotions and sensations Remus makes me feel without realising he's doing it are quite similar to the syrup that resembles his eyes. They're sticky and messy, but so wonderfully warm and sweet that I don't mind them being sticky and messy.

Coincidentally, the first time I wanted to kiss Remus involved syrup. It was back in fourth year when the four of us were eating breakfast. Remus had a drop of syrup stuck to his lip and I'd gotten the strange (Well, bizarre at the time anyway.) urge to lick it off. It took two years of having desires like that before I did something about it.

How can I remember something like that? Merlin, I am in love with him! Um, aren't I? I think I am…

The next time I'm alone with Remus I glance in the corner of the room where he always neatly puts his shoes and cloak. "So I'll at least be able to find _some_ of my clothes easily in the morning," he explained to me once when I'd asked. We both laughed, acknowledging that our clothes do, in fact, tend to wind up in odd places all around the room. After that he started folding my cloak, too. He's considerate that way.

I don't look at the garments for long, though, since I'm too focused on kissing the kind, clever werewolf in my arms. I can't describe what his kisses taste like. All I know is that they're amazing and I never get bored of them, which is impressive considering how easily I get bored.

The clothes, the kisses, the syrup, and everything else all add up to one conclusion and now that I've finally figured it out I can't wait another second to share it.

"Moony," I say against his bare skin, "I've got to tell you something."

"Hmm?" Remus is too breathless from our activities to manage anything else. Yeah, we're _that _good in the bedroom.

"You have syrup-y eyes," I tell him earnestly.

He grasps my naked shoulders with his elegant fingers and pushes me away slightly in order to see my face. "What?"

"You have syrup-y eyes," I repeat. I can't understand why he's confused; it makes perfect sense to me. "That's probably why me being in love with you is like syrup."

Remus still appears perplexed, though he smiles that smile that I'd walk a thousand miles to see. Or at least nine hundred anyway. "I'm in love with you too, Padfoot, and I'm sure you have a brilliant metaphor for how your love for me is like syrup, just as I have one for how my love for you is like chocolate, but can we talk about it after…"

Ah, a randy little marauder after my own heart! "Of course, on with the sexing! We shall make ourselves hot and sticky, like syrup."

Remus rolls his lovely, syrup-y eyes at my lack of tact, but continues to smile as he pulls me in for another kiss.

Then, there are just kisses and touches that cause me to simply_ feel _love and not have to_ think_ about it anymore.


End file.
